Let Me Feel My Feelings

Sometimes I want to scream: "Please just let me feel my feelings!"

It is not helpful that every time I say or write something that is socially not the correct or appropriate response or not what you would expect (such as, for example, I feel violated when my husband approaches me and wants to have sex with me) so many commentators jump on me and tell me that either a) I should get a divorce or b) I have serious psychological issues.

It is entirely logical that someone whose experience with sex is that it is ALWAYS PAINFUL but who simultaneously craves and yearns for a loving intimate relationship that is sexual in a positive way feels miserable that the only way her husband can get release sometimes is via non-vaginal penetration. Every time my husband wants to get release in a sexual way, that reminds me of what I consider to be my failure as a woman and as a wife. Since I am currently being avoidant, I try to avoid feeling like a failure (that might also be a kind of coping mechanism). This leads me to not want to engage in sexual activities that are non-vaginal. I also feel used when my husband cums outside of me because it makes me think of myself as part of an I-it relationship (namely, as an object that excites pleasure) rather than an I-thou relationship (the two of us together engage in some sort of sexually blissful experience). Granted, my husband doesn't intend to treat me like an object and he does love me, but that doesn't change how I feel.

It seems sometimes like people who comment here are more uncomfortable with this whole situation than I or my husband am. I think you're uncomfortable with all the concepts involved- a non-traditional marriage/ relationship where sex is not playing the major role, the fact that sexual dysfunction exists in the first place, the fact that sometimes I feel violated even though my husband has good intentions etc. To this I say: Too bad that you feel uncomfortable, that this wouldn't be the relationship that you would want to be in and that for you this would end in divorce. My story doesn't have to end that way. Just because our life is somewhat tragic right now doesn't mean we have to exaggerate the tragedy by ending the marriage completely. 

Let me feel my feelings. Even if my feelings scare or bother you, even if they include wishing I was single or dreaming about other imaginary sexual partners. If my own husband isn't scared by my feelings, non-traditional or out-of-the-box as they might be, why do you need to be? Why do you need to judge? Everyone has ups and downs. I have good days where I love my husband and want to express that love sexually and I have other days where I am in the dumps and dreaming about never having sex again. People have to learn to let things be, to let people grow at their own pace, to let them feel their feelings. Obviously, you don't have to agree with all my decisions or points of view, but to be such Debbie Downers and spend your time informing me of the mental issues you think I have or deciding I ought to get a divorce- well, you should be ashamed of yourselves. What you should be doing is rooting for me and my husband to move on, get through this and become an even better and more loving couple together. We want to beat the odds and end up together. You should be praying that that happens for us too.

I was thinking how so many of you, if your kid said they were gay would be all like "Oh Lady Gaga Born This Way, Rah Rah Rah, Gay Pride Parade, Hurray' and you would let your kid feel his feelings, no matter what they were. Why are you kinder to someone who has discovered he's attracted to members of the same gender than you are to someone who is trying to figure out how to cope with something which is basically chronic pain in the sexual department? Would you tell a woman who was incontinent and peed herself when she laughed or had sex that it doesn't matter and she should just sleep with her husband anyway, even if she's really embarrassed because she might urinate? Wouldn't you comfort her and say you understand how ashamed she feels and how hard things must be for her? A lot of you are not getting this point: Just because there's something that to you seems to be the logical solution doesn't make it the right thing to say or the thing that the person on the other end of the conversation needs to hear. 

I want to get to the same place that you guys want me to get to, where I have sex with my husband and he's happy and it's not horribly painful for me. At the least, I want to be able to get him off without feeling upset or miserable. Telling me that I'm a bad wife, have psychological problems or should get a divorce isn't the way to get me to that goal.

Vaginismus in Deborah Feldman's Memoir!

Everyone's talking about that book that's been in the New York Post, on The View, etc, called Unorthodox: The Scandalous Rejection of My Hasidic Roots by Deborah Feldman.

Honestly, the story itself isn't what interested me. What interested me is that this woman was brave enough to put her entire sex life (or lack thereof) on display for all her readers to see. Her sex life meaning her lack of knowledge about sex and her VAGINISMUS.

Yeah.

She did that.

She wrote about her vaginismus in her memoir.


I would put all the quotes from the book online except I think that would be a disservice. I think women suffering from sexual pain should buy the book and read it. So I'll just put some teasers up for you:

P.168- Finally he pokes, I think, in the right area, and I lift up to meet him and wait for the obligatory thrust and deposit. Nothing happens. He pushes and pushes, grunts with the effort, but nothing seems to give way. And in fact, I can't see what should. What is expected to happen here?

P. 172- The days after my wedding, which should be the happiest of my life, become consumed by the effort to consummate my marriage. But as each effort results in failure, Eli becomes more and more anxious, and as a result, his family exerts more and more pressure on us to be finished with it. By the third try, Eli can no longer muster any eagerness from his own body, and I cannot submit to something that isn't there.

(Then there's this weird part where it seems like she has a septum - you know how sometimes people are born with an imperforate hymen or a septum?- which the doctor explains to her as having "two hymens." The other doctor she talks to tells her she has some scarring, which I don't get, because I thought you could only get scarring from having been penetrated and cut/ bruised/ hurt. Maybe someone can explain this?)

P. 179- My feelings are such fragile, scared creatures; they must be coaxed out slowly, and by the time they get comfortable, they are sent into hiding again. Soon I cannot bring myself to reach out to my husband at all, because I dread the day when he will once again reject me...My own body becomes detached from me as well, and I can make it do things without feeling as if I am present.

I really did not like her description of vaginismus, because I think it gives the wrong impression of what is going on and that you can control it, because she describes it as being all in your head- but nevertheless, here goes:

P. 184- The therapist says she can tell from the way I squirm on the table that it's in my head. My head, she says, has more power over my body than I give it credit for. My vagina closes up if my mind wants it to, and no matter how much I convince myself I want it to open, my subconscious knows best, and it is in control. It's called vaginismus. She gives me a book to read about it. I read that the condition is most common in women who grow up in repressive religious environments.

She also talks about how she wrote about her struggle to consummate her marriage on her blog, Hasidic Feminist and how she felt like that was freeing. And she also talks about how she developed major anxiety because of the unconsummated issue and starting throwing up all the time.

Anyway, I'm really glad that someone has written about this in a mainstream and popular book. Hopefully that will raise awareness of the issue, although I'm worried people will think it only happens to people raised in very repressive environments (like the Hasidic community) when it happens to people like me, too, who was not raised in that way.

What I think was really helpful was how she showed her vaginismus connected to everything else. It caused her anxiety panic attacks, it deeply strained (and eventually broke) her marriage and it was also one of the main causes for why she moved out of one city and transferred to Upstate New York. So she showed how this condition can actually impact your whole life, not just the bedroom.

You go, girl! You're giving the whole world a wake-up call and making them a little more aware of what sexual pain means. You rock.